


Lessons

by oratorio



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:27:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oratorio/pseuds/oratorio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a slave, Fenris never learned to read.  Marian Hawke has been teaching him, and they have grown closer.  A tongue-in-cheek book selection gets out of hand, but then leads to Fenris receiving lessons of a different sort.</p><p>Rated M for discussion of previous non-consensual sexual encounters.  No actual sex in the story, just lots of kissing.</p><p>One Shot.  Written for a Dragon Age kmeme prompt.  Bioware owns all, including my soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

_“The battle was fi… fierce and bloody.  Aramin cried out in horror as his best l.. lie…”_

“Lieutenant”

_“Lieutenant… fell from his horse, ragged wound in his chest spraying him scarlet.”_

 

Hawke loved teaching Fenris to read.  She smiled as she watched him sitting at her table, frowning with concentration, pink tongue protruding slightly from the corner of his lips as he worked to decipher the words on the page in front of him.  Maker, but that elf didn’t know how beautiful he was.  She still remembered the moment she met him – terrifyingly glorious, shimmering silver-blue in the Lowtown moonlight, holding someone’s heart in his hand.  She thought that may have been the exact moment he also began to hold hers, albeit in not _quite_ the same way.

 

She also loved listening to the sound of his voice, meltingly sonorous and as rich as strong coffee.  She drifted into a daydream as he persevered with the story.

 

_“And with the final, twisting thrust of his sword, the Imperial Commander was dead and the battle over.  The remainder of his army threw down their weapons in surrender and were swiftly contained._

_Aramin had only one thing on his mind – rescuing his beloved.  He kicked his big bay horse vick – viciously into a weary gallop, heading straight for their enemy’s camp._

_“The camp was in ch… chaos, servants and the wounded milling in panic.  Aramin ignored them all, his eyes fixed on the largest, gow…_ Fasta vass! _”_

 _  
_“Gaudiest, Fenris.”

_“Gaudiest tent in the middle of the camp.  He lee.. leapt from his steed, pushing swiftly through the opening of the tent.  She was there, his Serita, lying on the bare ground, legs shackled with worn rope”_ Fenris paused, _“naked and vulnerable._

_“With one move, Aramin crossed the floor and swept her into his arms, tugging her free of her bindings.  “Oh my Serita, tell me you are not hurt?”  She could only shake her head, gazing deep into his copper eyes as he moved his lips towards her.  Their mouths crashed together in desperate passion, her lips soft as pillows, t… tongue sweet as honey.  She could feel his…”_

“Yes, Fenris?” Hawke had enjoyed the growing discomfort on the elf’s face as he fought to read the words, flushing to the tips of his ears and blinking furiously.

 

“Um… I can’t read this, Hawke,” Fenris cast his eyes to the opposite wall, tension in the set of his shoulders.

 

“Let me see… yes, that word is…”

 

“Venhedis, Hawke, I know what it says!”

 

Fenris growled and slammed the book closed, pushing the chair over as he stood abruptly, pacing back and forth, fists clenching at his sides.

 

Hawke watched with a mixture of amusement and confusion.  She’d purposely picked the cheesiest romance novel she could find, as she had thought it would be funny – and yes, she admitted, maybe a little erotic – to hear Fenris read those scenes aloud.  But he was reacting more strongly than she had imagined.

 

“Come, Fenris, it’s only a little passionate kissing!” Hawke teased lightly.  “Surely something we all do plenty of, given the chance?”

 

Fenris glared at her, nostrils flaring, green eyes sparking with anger.

 

“I have to go, Hawke.  Do not follow me,” he spat, before stalking out of the room, his whole body taut with tension like a violin’s strings.

 

Well, Hawke thought, that was unexpected.  She knew the elf had a volatile temper and often a gloomy disposition, but they had grown closer since she had begun teaching him to read – in fact, he really no longer needed lessons but still showed up three evenings each week – and she now considered him a friend.  She’d hoped he thought the same of her.  She struggled to understand his behaviour – he’d been embarrassed, flustered, furious.  All over a silly fluffy love scene in a book.

 

She lay awake for most of the night, more upset than she liked to admit over Fenris’ sudden outburst and departure.  She was afraid that there would be no more lessons, no more quiet time spent together, just the two of them, poring over books, drinking wine together and occasionally telling each other stories of their pasts.  It had become surprisingly easy to be in the elf’s company and to lose that would leave a blankness in her life, an emptiness.

 

Maker, she was in love with that blasted elf and there was nothing she could do about it.  Perhaps some time away from his company would be for the best.

 

* * *

 

Several evenings passed with no sign of Fenris.  On the fifth night of solitude, Hawke sighed.  Enough was enough,  Any more of this and Varric would have to start calling her Broody.  She changed into a simple tunic and leggings and headed to the Hanged Man.

 

It had been too long since she’d had a proper night of drinking and gambling with her closest friends, Varric and Isabela.  After a few of Corff’s special ales, Hawke had lost three sovereigns, laughed at Varric’s terrible jokes and had almost stopped thinking about Fenris.  Almost.

 

It was near midnight before Hawke finally staggered back to her Hightown mansion.  Her eyes were cast down, rooting in her pockets for her key, when she collided with a lean body wearing tight armour and – no shoes.

“Fenris!” she grinned, tipsily.

 

“Hawke. You were not here for our lesson.”

 

She felt herself instantly sober.

 

“You shout at me, storm out, leave me wondering what I’ve done to upset you, ignore me for days and then have the nerve to complain that I’m not sitting around moping, waiting for you to decide you want to show up again?”

 

She took a deep breath and was about to continue her diatribe when she saw the look on Fenris’ face.  He looked cowed, ashamed, eyes cast low and brow knitted in worry.  His shoulders slumped and he inhaled sharply.

 

“Hawke, I can explain.  Please.”

 

On the last word, his eyes raised to hers, beseeching, flowing with emotion like the depths of a mountain river.

 

Hawke sighed.  “This had better be good.”

 

 

* * *

 

“This is… difficult for me.”

 

Fenris reclined in an armchair in front of the fire, one long leg tucked under the other.  He sat with practiced ease, but the strain in his voice was unmistakeable.

 

“I tell you only because… you have been good to me, done much to help me.  You did not deserve my anger.”

 

Hawke remained silent, inclining her head slightly to show she was listening.

 

“I find it hard to, well, to think about such things as that book…” Fenris paused, passed a hand over his face.  “The scenes, not the battle – the _other_ scenes, with his woman… I just, I just **can’t!** ”

 

He rumbled a frustrated sound in his throat.  “Do you understand?”

 

“I’m not sure I do, Fenris, but I’d like to try.”  Hawke gazed at him, a gentler than usual countenance.

 

Fenris stood suddenly, facing the mantel, leaning an arm against it.

 

“I have always thought myself undesirable.  Ugly.”  He laughed, bitterly.  “Danarius liked to… use me… and, and he’d tell me I should be grateful as I was unworthy.  It was… rough.  Clinical.  I…”  he broke off, shaking his head.  Hawke stood behind him, frozen in horror.

 

“I used to dream of being someone else, someone normal.  I’ve never… never kissed… and I used to wonder… _Venhedis!_ Why am I telling you all this?”

 

Hawke lay a hand on his shoulder.  “Fenris, I…”

 

“No.  Do not!” Fenris whirled and she stepped back, instinctively raising a hand to her chest.  His eyes were shining with unshed tears and his cheeks were ruddy.  “I do not want your pity.  I wanted simply to explain.  We are done here.”

 

He spun on his heels and headed for the door.  Hawke’s heart was stuttering in her chest, part fear, part shock, part… something else.  She knew if she let him go now, she may damage whatever there was between them forever.  His shame would not allow him to seek her out again.  She hurried after him, catching him as he fumbled with her door.

 

“Fenris, stop.  Please.  You need to listen to me, too.”

 

He hesitated, one hand still on the door handle.

 

“Please, Fenris.  Look at me.”

 

She stood, vulnerable and shivering, heart in knots, head pounding with nerves.  It felt as if eternity had passed while she stared at his shoulders.  Finally, he turned around, letting out a shaky breath.  She took a step closer to him, then another.

 

Reached out her hand.  Tilted his chin. Stroked a finger down his tanned, smooth cheek.  Whispered, fierce in his ear.  “This is _**not**_ pity”.

 

Then her lips were on his, pushing, insistent.  Fenris froze against her briefly, then she felt his body spasm and his hands grab at her face as he began to move his mouth desperately.  He was clumsy, inexperienced, unsure what to do with his tongue.  She felt her lips curve beneath his kiss in a surprised smile before reluctantly pulling back.

 

“Let me,” she stroked his moist lips with a finger, shuddering at the desire she saw in his hooded eyes.  He nodded mutely.

 

Hawke leaned into him again, gently pressing her soft lips against his, as he stood with his mouth slightly open, panting with need.  She kissed him slowly, softly, feeling nerve endings tingling as she slid over the salty skin of him, pulling his lower lip into her mouth and nipping lightly, drawing a gasp of pleasure from the elf.  She pulled back again, peppering little hard kisses all over his jaw before pushing him hard against the wall, claiming him, eyes shuttering, parting his lips with her tongue, pushing it into his mouth and twining with him in a sensuous dance of succulence and passion.  She could sense his lyrium brands shining silver as his body lit up in response to her touch.

 

She opened her eyes, started as she saw him staring at her, drinking her in as if she was unreal, a dream.  Maybe this whole thing was a dream, who knew.  She would wake up any minute, alone in her huge four poster, wet as a river and gasping for elf kisses which had disappeared with the Fade.

 

She blinked hard, once, twice.  He was still there, breathing hard, arms snaking around her waist and travelling… down…

 

She moaned against his mouth, her hot breath filling him, pushing her breasts against his armour and writhing against him.  He tasted like wine and warm bread, bittersweet and delicious.  She was exploring every inch of him with her lips and tongue, teeth occasionally clashing as the elf let his eagerness overflow.  She had never known Fenris so enthusiastic, so… exultant in an act.  The thought of this sent more sparks flowing downwards to her centre and she squeezed her legs together, feeling her own damp heat against her thighs.

 

“Marian…” Fenris’ voice suddenly sounded broken, cracked.  She had never heard him use her given name before.  She pulled back, one hand in his hair, and looked a question at him silently.

 

“Why… why did you do this?”

 

“Oh Fenris,” she shook her head.

 

“If not pity, then what?”  Some of the old Fenris anger was returning, his eyes intense and lips, puffy with kisses, turning up in a familiar snarl.

 

Hawke sighed.

 

“The furthest thing from pity you could possibly get, Fenris.  I wanted to kiss you.  I needed to kiss you.  You are… you are the most beautiful man I have ever known.  I’m sorry… if I have done wrong.”

 

She watched  Fenris carefully as she stuttered out the words she had wanted to say for so long but been too afraid.  She saw his eyes widen in astonishment, his head shake softly, and his entire expression darken as he registered her words, stormy with lust.

 

Then he was grabbing her shoulders, turning her until her back was against the cold stone wall and he was kissing her again, his entire body pressed against hers, long and lean and hard with muscle and… _oh_.

 

His tongue was running along her jaw, tasting her skin, sending pulses of light along her nerves.  She whined, desperate for him, wanting him to never stop, never stop this blissful ecstasy.  His kisses became harder, frantic, needy as he leaned into her, his hands twining in her hair.  She let her fingers travel down his armour, rubbing at the soft leather, touching him…

 

Fenris tensed, pulling back.

 

“I’m sorry, not… not that.  Too much.  I can’t do that.”

 

Hawke could have stabbed herself in the eye.  Maker, she was a fool.  Too easy to forget, to get swept away in the elf’s eyes, his mouth.

 

“I’m…sorry, Fenris.  It was just, I didn’t think, I’m sorry,” she gabbled desperately.  “Forgive me.  I didn’t mean to.”

 

Fenris looked at her sadly, intensely.  “I know.  You have done nothing wrong.  In fact… tonight has been more right than I can ever remember feeling.  Thank you.”

 

Hawke smiled shakily.  “Me too.  Will… will we do this again?  Just the kissing, I mean.  Nothing else.”

 

She cringed as she heard her voice, reedy and forlorn.

 

Fenris chuckled, a wonderful sound.

 

“I certainly hope so, Marian.  I feel I need… more lessons.  Shall we start now?”

 

A wide smile creased her face as she turned her lips back to his.


End file.
